


Bathtime

by KiwiLombax15



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, M/M, Pining, Some angst, Trans Junkrat, clean rat is good rat, i really have no excuse I just wanted fluff, not explicitly stated but my junkrat is always trans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-15
Updated: 2016-11-15
Packaged: 2018-08-31 04:34:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8564248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiwiLombax15/pseuds/KiwiLombax15
Summary: Civilization has many perks. Baths are just the start.





	

“So this is clean, roight?”

“Yep.”

“Y' promise? 'S'not gunna give me the trots or rad burns or nothin'? Jus'...clean water?”

“Yep.”

“And I can bath in it? As much as I like?”

Roadhog smiled under the mask despite himself at the look of childlike wonder on Junkrats face. For once, he looked his age. Perhaps even younger.

“Sure can.”

Rats face broke into a beaming smile.

“Hooley dooley! I gotta try this!”

He reached for the taps and paused.

“'ey Hoggie, why's there two taps?”

“One's hot, ones cold. Hot baths're best. Not too hot or y'll burn yerself.”

Rat immediately set to work fiddling with the taps and giggling. The motels ensuite was small, but clean and well tended to, no cockroaches or cigarette burn marks to be found. The two were on the outskirts of civilization, a sleepy Sydney suburb. 

Rats eyes flickered to the bags of cash tossed haphazardly in the corner of the room with their disguises. A little less sleepy now. The little bank didn't have much, but it would do for a leg up.

He scooped up a handful of water from the gushing cold tap and took a swig, tears prickling his eyes.

“Christ, hog...best thing I ever tasted...better than I ever dreamed.”

“Plenty more where that came from. These city fuckers never run out.”

“Wot, never? Lucky fuckers!”

Junkrat picked things up quickly, a vital survival trait, and soon the tub was filling with steaming water as he twiddled the knobs to just the right temperature.

He stripped quickly and shamelessly, sinking into the tub with strangled little yelps and monkey noises as his body adjusted to the hot water. Roadhog laughed, and he shot a glare his way, before shivering softly.

“Oh...Oh this is the life, mate...”

Roadhog nodded and unclipped his mask, the steaming air easy on his lungs as he reached for his shaving kit. Stubble ran the risk of breaking the masks air-tight seal, and they hadn't had time to stop and shave recently.

“Get used to it. City wankers love their comfort.”

Without the mask and no one around to intimidate, his voice slipped from its hard growl to something a little softer, echoes of lush green farmland and sleepy New Zealand beaches curling around his accent instead of the harsh flatness of the wastes. Rat bathed in it, the soft calmness of it, as he sank down beneath the warm water, leaving only his long nose above the surface. It was purest, softest luxury, no quick wipe-down in a smelly billabong and a fast retreat before the croc got you.

Dripping wet, he pushed himself above the surface and groped for the soap bar near the tub, briskly working up a lather. Slowly, greyness threaded through the water as the ever present prickling on his skin faded under his onslaught. Feeling calmer in the waters embrace, he let his eyes roam around the roam, jumping attention span latching onto random things. The shine on the buckles of Hogs mask, a truly ugly picture of a dog on the wall he planned on defacing later, a small potted cactus, the lines on Hogs face.

He squinted closer. He'd seen them before, but never had the time or safety to really ask the burning question:

“Wots them things on yer face, Hog?”

Roadhog wiped off his face and sighed.

“It's called Ta Moko. It connects me to my whakapapa, my family.”

“Looks bangin'! Some aborigine thing? Knew a trader with these fucking wicked scars on his chest-”

“Close. Maori.”

“What tribes that? Know most of the ones near Junkertown, never come across the Maori before.”

Roadhog laughed, and Junkrat felt his stomach turn to mush, focusing on a stubborn spot on his thigh to try and hide his flush.

“Not Aborigine. We're from New Zealand. It's an island off the coast of Australia.”

Junkrat dropped the soap, slopping water onto the floor as he pulled himself up on the edge of the tub, eyes wide.

“There's more places than Australia?” His voice was full of awe.

Roadhog chuckled, his darker one, promising destruction and hellfire as dark and powerful as Junkrats own.

“So many more places for us to “visit”. Yer gunna have a blast.”

Junkrat cackled and slipped back into the tub.

“Nice one, mate. 'ere, wots this stuff in the bottles?”

“Shampoo. Cleans yer hair.”

“Wots next, something t' clean yer teeth?”

Roadhog smirked, but didn't rise to this one, talking him through using the stuff instead. It felt...good. Restful. Just a quiet stolen moment among the chaos and hellfire. Not being hunted or attacked. The ever present anger in his soul didn't go away, not fully. Not ever. But it simmered softly on the backburner for now, something soft and quiet and easy to ignore in this warm, hazy room.

Junkrat rinsed his hair and glowered at the mess in the tub, running a fresh bath and giggling at the extravagance.

“God, look at all this, hog! Money, food, water, soft things, these civvies don't know they're fucking born! Softies, every one of the wankers! We could walk over them with our eyes closed! They've never starved, never gone thirsty, never had to fight to stay alive...”

Rat paused, the maniac light draining from his face as he stared down into the water.

“Almost starved when I was a kid. Didjer know that? Ten years old, I think. If I hadn't found that wallaby someone had clipped with their bike I wouldn't be here...D-d'yer think they knew, Hog? That all this...shit was going down in the outback? They got all this food, all this water, why didn't they send some?”

Roadhog spun his mask in his hands.

“We always thought it was some kind of punishment, eh. Make us pay for resisting the government and shit.”

“I was five, Hog. What did I do? Just a kid, Hog...just a kid.” 

Silence fell, thick and suffocating, wrong in its emptiness. On instinct, Roadhog reached out and stroked Junkrats damp hair. He leaned into the touch with the desperation of the chronically touch starved, pressing his face into his palm like a cat.

“Gonna show 'em, Hog. Teach 'em wot happens when they leave kids to starve. They're all guilty of it. Only needed one person to stand up and say this shit wasn't on. Take wot we want, I don't see why not.” He giggled against his massive palm, the old fire flickering back. “Way I see it, they owe us, roight? All them years'a fuckin' misery, we've got a damned right to take wot we fuckin' want, ey Hog?”

“Too damn right. Twenty years I spent in hell. I want to show those whinging bastards in the cities what lifes about just as much as you do. Fuck, I'd do this for free if I could.”

“Really? This mean I don't have to pay you?”

He cuffed Rats head affectionately.

“Fuck off. Fifty-fifty, remember?”

“Fifty-fifty. Should be hitting Sydney proper tomorrow. We'll really see some sparks then!”

Roadhog felt the anticipation rise in his chest, making a note to sharpen his hook before bed.

“Try and stay out of trouble this time.” he said, grinning.

“I'll be on me best behaviour! Y'want the bath after me?”

“Won't fit. I'll take the shower though.”

“All yers, mate.”

Rising from the tub like the worlds ugliest, scrawniest Venus, Junkrat grabbed at the astonishingly fluffy towel, making a mental note to steal it, along with everything not nailed down.

There was only one bed in the room, but he didn't mind. The two had shared bedrolls before, in the outback. It hadn't meant anything then, just a way of surviving the bitter nights. It felt different now, looking at the big, soft bed. There wasn't any practical need to share a space now, but some small fluttering thing in his stomach that had survived the blasting heat of the outback looked forward to it, another small, soft moment in his harsh life.

He looked at his bag bulging with explosives and cackled. That was a thought much easier to decipher, his little toys ready to create the most beautiful bangs.

“Don't even think about it.” floated from the bathroom and Junkrat giggled again.

“Yes, _mum_.”

Another deep, gut-twisting laugh and Junkrat squirmed as he pulled his shorts on. He'd have liked more time to decipher these emotions running through his head like maniac possums, but the adrenaline high was wearing off, the hot bath leaving him floppy and relaxed. He hadn't intended to fall asleep, but the soft bed closed around him before he had a chance to fight it.

He drifted awake slightly when he felt someone gently pull the blankets over him, a strong hand flicking a lock of damp hair off his face. He murmured sleepily and wriggled closer, blissfully ignorant of the soft inhalation behind him. Plans and schematics and bombs flickered through his dreams, and he smiled in his sleep. 

Tomorrow the world was theirs.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm roadrat trash and I'm not sorry. Less "Roadhog begrudgingly following Junkrat like a surly babysitter" and more "Roadhog is an active and eager crime partner who's having just as much fun as Junkrat" please.
> 
> Want more like this? Support the writer here! https://ko-fi.com/fruitbird


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